Poetry

If I look at light in this world of darkness
the starkness of a moonless starless night
brings nothing bright to my own consciousness
with only a flickering kind of strange sight,

the light is dim in a world of bickering,
existing is a bad reflection of Him
and the brim decline is in every thing
while we as is due act proper and prim,

in everything it still stays very true,
in what we do that the Supreme Being
who’s everlasting somewhere beyond the blue,
does indeed from us not need a thing

and at His behest many thousands speed
in each deed, in nothing that we suggest,
but to His request even existence heed,
to bring constant joy, happiness and rest.

[Reference: Sonnet xix “On his Blindness” by John Milton.]